My big eyed beauty Tabby girl

Where the heck does the time go? How is it possible the little kitten I saw get run over in the middle of the road that cold Friday February afternoon and stopped to help has already been with us four years?

I was thinking it was only three. Even that seems impossible. But she had to have come into our lives in 2007. In 2008 I started dealing with other dramas. I know she was here for those, so that means we got her the year before. Which makes her four.

Ah, my little Lady Tabitha, Tabernathy, Tabberkins Pryor. (I gave her Wayne’s last name because it flows better when I say her whole name.) What a disaster she was when we first got her!

Talk about one wild kitten…who was still just a kitten really, not even a year old, but unbeknownst to us she was preggers. Likely she was lying dazed and confused in the middle of the road like she’d been because she’d just finished doing the deed. (Or getting the deed done to her. I’m not sure she was old enough to look for nookie without nookie being introduced to her.)

Anyway, when she started acting nuts towards Mr. Meow to the point of unrelentingly harassing him and not letting him go anywhere in the house, we took her to the vet. Maybe being spayed would help. That’s when they discovered the babies.

So she had an abortion, got fixed, and came home and got an infection that nearly killed her. After being rushed back to the vet and staying there two days, she was free to come home and start tormenting Mr. Meow again the moment she started feeling better.

Poor Mr. Meow…he spent the first six months of her arrival cowering behind the chair in our living room. He had to sneak to his litter box. If she knew he had to go, Tab would often sprawl out in front of the nearest one, forcing Meow to go to the other, farther away one. And then she’d lay in wait until he was done and chase him back to his hidey hole.

Oh man, she was ruthless! Mr. Meow hated her!

But now? They still fight. Especially over who gets to lay in my lap on the couch or who’s turn it is to snuggle with me in bed. But they’re also buds and play pals.

They've learned to share!

And she still loves her Murphy as much, if not more, than the first moment she saw him. Murph is definitely her favorite brother and the love of her life.

She's purrfectly content sharing with Murph. Always has been.

"What are you two doing up there? Stay out of trouble!"

Except for maybe her Papa. If his lap’s available she’ll gladly relinquish mine to Mr. Meow to perch in Pop’s lap. She is definitely a Daddy’s Girl!

Nappin' with Papa is Tab's favorite thing!

Tab, I know you can’t read but I’m writing this for you anyway. I love you. I knew the moment I swooped you into my arms and rushed you to my car that you were my baby girl. You were the one that made me understand how moms who have just given birth and get to hold their babies in their arms for the first time must feel. Such a rush of warmth and unconditional love.

Thank you for being such a special girl. Thank you for all the love and laughter you bring into our lives. Happy birthday, baby! We love you!

Perched atop her scratcher I got her for her 3rd bday with a toy she got at Christmas

Sunbaking beauty girl

Lounging around in the sun room...sunbaking of course!

"MY hoop!"

Part of her toy collection

Lady Tabitha, Tabernathy, Tabberkins Pryor - my baby sweetie girl!

I won’t go into all of the gory details of how it came to be Wayne and I found ourselves in the family planning aisle at Target tonight. Suffice it to say we did, and suffice it to say I saw some things that made me go “Hmmm….”

DETERMINE THE GENDER 

Since I have never been pregnant, I have never had to wonder what sex my baby will be. I knew there were tests that would tell you aside from sonograms. I didn’t know you could buy them in Target now, though.

You can. It’s called the IntelliGender Gender Prediction Kit. Interesting.

PERSONAL MASSAGERS

Small and discreet

Now you can even get personal massagers at Target! Just the fingertip versions. Very small. Very discreet. I’m surprised there hasn’t been an uproar about this.

I mean, I can’t help but wonder if Target sold male masturbation aids some group somewhere would be up in arms and calling for a removal of the product from shelves or a boycott of the store. But it’s okay for women.

Or is it?

Maybe someone somewhere will throw a stink about it once they figure it out. I can think of a whole lot of uptight women who would be shocked at the prospect of what amounts to a type of dildo for sale in a store where their kids might see it. They’d want the sale of such things to be confined to adult stores. (As long as those adult stores were nowhere near their side of town.)

I think it’s freaking hilarious. I was half-tempted to buy one myself just to say I did.

PORTABLE CONDOM CARDS

Portable Condom Card?

I had to snap a pic of this next box so I’d remember it right. (Plus, I’m lazy. It was easier to take a picture than break out a pen and scrap of paper.)

What the hell is a portable condom card?

I had to look it up when we got home. “Discreetly carry condoms wherever you go, so you’ll always have one when you need it.”

Huh. So it’s the same thing as a business card holder, just for your condoms. (Which, for some, and depending on their line of work, might be like a calling card.)

The name makes sense now, but really? Did they have to go there and come up with such a thing? Whatever happened to just keeping condoms in your wallet?

At any rate, I certainly got a lot of food for thought at Target tonight!

Mr. Meow is now the tubeless wonder! Yesterday at his checkup he had continued to maintain his weight by eating on his own with no goo tube feedings from me. Dr. Stumb felt it was time to remove his feeding tube.

Hallelujah!

They were able to remove it right then and there. Later today I can take his bandage off. (He pretty much was ready to have it come off last night. He shredded it pretty good. I think only the tape part is left. I believe he managed to unravel all of the gauze and pull it out on his own.)

I’m a little hesitant to see the hole in the side of his neck for the first time. I’m just SOOOOO immensely thankful we had an option like the feeding tube to try and that Dr. Stumb didn’t automatically write him off as having cancer and being a goner. She at least tried to treat his for the Tri-itisis, and it seems that was a good gamble as it must’ve been what he had. If he had cancer he should’ve kept on deteriorating.

I can’t thank her or the staff at Southside Animal Hospital enough. All the vets are great there. Dr. Singleton saved Tabby’s life back when she got an infection after her spay surgery. She became our go to vet after that. Both Murph and Tab love her, but not Mr. Meow. (Except that’s not unusual. He really doesn’t like anyone.)

But when Dr. Singleton was out over Thanksgiving and Dr. Stumb was on duty, that’s who we rushed Mr. Meow in to see. He didn’t fuss as much with her. I wrote it off that it was just how sick he was.

But during this feeding tube trial (which has called for multiple vet trips), it’s become apparent of all the vets he’s ever seen, he fusses least with Dr. Stumb.

So…since she can manage him she’ll be his vet. Murph and Tab will still see Dr. Singleton.

But I have to wonder…is it a Courtney thing? Dr. Stumb’s first name is also Courtney. Sort of funny.

I’m just glad he’s still allive and kicking. The feeding tube was sure an adventure, but…it worked! I’m very thankful we had both the time and money to pursue that route. Even if Mr. Meow lives to be 25 (WOW! That’d be some kind of miracle wouldn’t it?), it’s going to be way too soon to say goodbye to him.

Others only get to see his cranky, ornery side. But he’s my little kitty soul mate. He’s definitely left his paw prints all over my heart. So glad he’s still around!

I’ve been loading Mr. Meow up in his carrier every Monday for the past few weeks and taking him to the bet for a check up on his feeding tube and health in general. He’s been doing okay. Last week his weight was up from 9.3 to 9.5. It was encouraging he’d gained weight. That meant it might not be cancer after all.

This past week has seen HUGE strides in his health. He’s been pooping again. (Sort of messy/runny poos, but he hadn’t really been going before so we’re glad to see him stinking up his potty box.)

He’s also been a LOT more playful. He’s been wrestling with me again, and tormenting both Murph and Tab by chasing after them.

He’s back to jumping on the kitchen counter and asking for sink water. (He loves drinking from the faucet.) And he’s been my shower buddy again. (He waits outside the shower until I’m done and then wants to drink from the shower head. Did I mention his affinity for water?)

But at his check up this week he had his biggest improvements yet. He gained a half a pound AND all of his blood work came back 100% normal! Dr. Stumb couldn’t even believe it. She had figured to see it had dropped some, but not like the results that came in.

For instance, one of his most impressive numbers involved something to do with his liver. When we’d first took him in that particular level was 1,000. Normal should be between 40-130. He was right on 130 yesterday.

Dr. Stumb tried to credit the victory to me saying if I hadn’t been willing to take on the task of caring for him via his feeding tube and making sure he got all his meds he never would’ve bounced back like this.

But if she hadn’t of checked him in and given us the feeding tube option and just looked at him like an old cat whose time had probably come and not helped treat him, he’d be gone.

So I credit it to the both of us. It was a tag team effort to get him back on track.

But Mr. Meow is the real miracle. He was the day he followed me up the steps and marched right in his home like he knew he was meant to be there (which, of course, he was), and he is now that he responded so well to the treatments.

So it looks like it’s not cancer after all. PHEW! Again, so grateful to the marvels of modern medicine. It saved my baby’s life!

Mr. Meow right when we brought him home from the vet Saturday 11/27

Poor Mr. Meow…He got to come home Saturday but they had to put a feeding tube in him first.

They also loaded him up on all kinds of drugs. If it’s the triWHATCMACALLITitis (I still can’t get the name of it, but it’s basically an inflammation/infection of his liver, pancreas and gallbladder) the antibiotics should treat that.

If that doesn’t work, then it’s likely cancer and it’s only a matter of time. How much time they can’t say. Depends on how fast the cancer progresses.

It was awesome to get him home. The feeding tube has been quite the adventure, but today I got a better hang of it. I still ended up squirting a bunch on him, but a lot less than my first few tries.

He seems to be very happy to be home. He slept with me the whole night through Saturday. He always falls asleep with me, but usually moves to one of his other comfy spots during the night.

Last night he slept on my head like he used to do the first several years we had him. And during the times I’m on the couch… he’s been right there with me, his back leg thrown over my arm in that way he does to “hug” me.

I’m very grateful for this time with him. I hope it’s going to be a healing time, but if it turns out it’s the beginning of the end then I’m thankful we’ve had these last moments to say goodbye and show each other in the ways we’ve developed over the years that we love each other.

Mr. Meow in his crate after his follow-up visit today to check his tube and get a new bandage

The last several months Mr. Meow’s had a heck of a time. It sort of all started back when he got a bad tooth. One of his front fangs cracked off, became infected, and eventually needed to be pulled.

He hadn’t been eating back then too good. It made sense, though. His mouth was in pain and he had an infection so he couldn’t have been feeling too good.

But then he never really bounced back after that. The last month he’s been really bad. He hasn’t been eating hardly anything and has continued losing weight.

Last week I took him in for some reason. At the moment I can’t even remember why. Was it a check-up for his thyroid meds? Or was it something else? Maybe to get the results from his ultrasound? No, I think she called to talk to me about those. Maybe it was to get another steroid injection for the itches he’s had lately.

I can’t remember. My mind’s not functioning as I write this. All I know is the last few days he’s really been bad about eating. Yesterday I called and made an appointment for him today because all he’d had was a few treats. Something told me I better get him back in, so…I did.

Our regular vet is off this week, but all the vets where we go are good. Today’s vet gave us some options, one of which was to hospitalize him and see if fluids and antibiotics will help at all.

So, as much as I hated to do it, I left him there. I want him home, and I know he wants to be home, but if they can do anything to help him not starve to death I want to try.

Complicating treatment options is that no definitive results are turning up. His ultrasound turned up a variety of possible causes for a different things.  His last blood work didn’t indicate anything specific.

But it’s not normal for him to have lost so much weight and not eat. They know something’s going on, they just can’t pinpoint what.

I just hope he comes home from the hospital. I know he’s getting older, and I know we may end up having to make a hard decision here shortly. But I sure don’t want to. He’s been such a good cat. He wandered into our lives 11 years ago this month and has done nothing except totally enriched it.

Coming home to a Mr. Meow-less house right now and sitting here expecting to see him perched in his usual spots has me thinking, “The day may be coming sooner than I want that he won’t be here anymore.”

That just makes my heart hurt more than mere words can describe.

I’m hoping with all my might that it’s an infection and he responds to antibiotics and starts feeling better again. Even without eating he’s still been snuggling and playing. If it was cancer I don’t know if he’d do that.

Although, he’s always been one tough and ornery cat. I hope that helps him beat whatever is ailing him now so he can come home and live to be a really old, fiesty Gata Bato. One who dies years from now peacefully in his sleep.

Yesterday started off pretty much like every other Sunday. Wayne went on his 14 mile run with the neighbor, I enjoyed my Sleeping in Sunday ritual. Later there’s always the big decision: what are we going to do for breakfast?

Since he had work to do still (he’s been working the last 2 weeks, including weekends, on a big deal) and I was craving link sausages, we decided I’d run to the store and make us breakfast at home.

So I took off, got the stuff, and came home. That’s when disaster struck –or, rather, my klutzy ways did.

I stepped wrong and my foot caught the side of our driveway…the part that’s not flush with the lawn. My ankle twisted under me as I crashed to the ground screaming.

I felt it bend funny, and could’ve swore I felt something snap. Judging by the searing pain shooting through my leg and foot I thought I’d for sure broken my ankle.

Bawling my head off like I haven’t done since I was a kid, I started screaming for help hoping Wayne would hear. Then, still laying sprawled out on the ground because it hurt so bad and I was afraid to move, my mind raced trying to figure out how what to do next.

I grabbed my cell and called home. The second Wayne answered I started screaming, “Help me! Help me! I’m outside!”

Now he says I hung up on him, but I swear he hung up. I thought he heard me and was on his way outside so I clicked off and then waited for the door to open.

And waited. And kept waiting.

“What the heck is taking him so long?” I thought.

Bear in mind, I’m still laying on the ground bawling my head off.

A few more seconds passed and still no Wayne. I called him again, this time on his cell.

“Where the hell are you? Help me! I’m outside. I fell down! I think I broke my ankle!”

“What? Where are you?”

“OUTSIDE! Get the hell out here and help me, dammit! I can’t walk!”

Finally the front door opens and when he sees me he comes racing over to help me get inside.

Later he explained that he couldn’t understand me very well the first time I called. All he knew was I was hysterical and he thought I’d been in a car accident or had somehow run over an animal.

The second he thought of that last one he started racing around the house to make sure all of our animals were inside. (Because Mr. Meow is a good one to sneak out lately without us realizing it right away.) He started panicking I’d killed one of them on accident or something.

“Why didn’t you just look outside?” I asked.

“Because I thought you were still at the store. Or on the on the road.”

I sort of understand what he’s saying, but I’m fairly sure if he called me up howling that he was outside, even if I knew he’d been at the store, I’d at least go look out the window to see what was going on.

What I should’ve done, which I didn’t think of until I was falling asleep last night, was to set off my car’s emergency honking button. Maybe that would’ve gotten him to look out the window?

It’s kind of a weird feeling thinking Wayne was also someone else’s “the one.” I always knew he was mine, for me, my other half, my pea pod mate.

But a couple weeks ago an old boyfriend (for lack of a better word, he really wasn’t a boyfriend exactly) looked me up on Facebook. That was fine. Others have too. One of Wayne’s old girlfriends looked him up too. It happens.

But then mine decided to send me a Valentine’s FB “card.” You know those apps you can forward on to people? It’s not really a card, but it was for Valentine’s on Valentine’s. Worse, it had this little kid couple on it.

Wayne flipped. And he never flips. But little kids are our thing. Specifically the little kids dressed in old-timey clothes that are usually shot in black and white and maybe one thing is color, like a rose. I know there’s an artist whose style that is. I just don’t know the name. But you can find it on cards, plaques, wall hangings, figurines, etc.

Wayne almost always gives me a card with those kids on it for birthdays, anniversaries, and, yes, Valentine’s Day. Including this past one. He has for years and years and years now. It really bothered him to see some other guy he’d never even heard of before giving me something similar.

In all honesty, I’d forgotten all about the other guy. I saw him back in college. It was just one of those things. I didn’t even remember his name! (I remembered his first name when he friended me, but I’m not sure I even knew his last name.)

But apparently it wasn’t just one of those things to him. He remembered me 20 years later.

He’s married now with 3 kids. He lives in Louisiana. It’s not like anything’s going to be rekindled.

But it brought up some dark days in Wayne and I’s early years. And hurt feelings. Wayne spent last night scrolling back through all my FB wall posts. He found all the other comments P (I’ll just call the other guy that) left…and started reading stuff into them.

I would feel the same way really. It’s kind of funny, in fact, that the shoes are reversed like this. Normally I’m the one making a mountain out of mole hill.

Anyway, so we had a big talk last night with me feeling bad and us prancing down a memory lane that really sucked. One where we broke up because Wayne refused to propose and I started seeing someone else. It was a really ugly time back before we got engaged.

There was also a girl back then in Wayne’s life who helped make those dark days darker. Not that he was seeing her necessarily. But she was a pot stirrer and she spent a lot of time stirring ours. I had this niggling feeling that if my P had contacted me, it wouldn’t be much longer before Pot Stirrer contacted Wayne. Maybe she already had.

So I said something about it. But this just made Wayne more suspicious about the P person and was I hiding more than I was letting on.

Well, then we started talking about Kelly, a girl Wayne had…I don’t even know what with back in his senior year of college. All I know is she sent him letters to his home address signed “love.” Years later he confessed that if she had been a smidge better looking he probably would’ve dumped me for her because he loved her. But nothing physical had transpired between them. But emotionally? They were tight. (Which hurts more than if they’d had sex to be honest.)

Kelly had looked him up late last year. That was cool. He actually told me about it. (After I had a niggling feeling that was going to happen and asked him if he’d heard from her yet. A few days later when she did friend him it flipped him out. I keep trying to tell him there’s something to women’s intuition and I have it but he doesn’t believe me!)

Anyway, he told me that they’d caught up. No big deal.

Until last night. During our talk hashing out all the FB  nonsense with the beau from my past, he made a comment about how she’d written something on his wall.

I never saw anything. So I went back to look, because Kelly is the one sore spot, the one threat I’ve never fully trusted has gone away.

Yes, she had written something. And Wayne can say it was nice. I see it differently.

Wayne was clearly her “one.” I knew it back then when I’d find her letters that he’d try to hide from me. I read it in her comment now.

Her very first one in their little exchange was about how she was glad we were together and how he’d said even back then I was the one.

That’s what she had focused on. Not that he was a CPA after all just like he’d set out to be or that he no longer lived in Colorado, but who he had married. And that’s all she had said.

I learned a long time ago that whatever people bring up first is what matters to them most. Wayne still mattered to her, and it was clear even from her seemingly innocuous post that she saw him as the one that got away.

She’s divorced now and you can’t tell me she didn’t look him up out of curiosity. Then come to find out he had married me…after all the volatility we knew back when she also knew him. He used to love to throw me under the bus and grumble to garner pity about how I mistreated him. (Which, in his defense, I was pretty controlling and jealous back then. A lot has since changed on that front I am happy to say.)

But he didn’t help my jealousy issue when he wouldn’t introduce me to friends like Kelly and he’d take their side over mine.

Anyway…that’s not the point. We both acted badly back then.

The point is, it kind of stung to realize he’s still her one. That he set her benchmark too.

Luckily he was very open and hid nothing when she contacted him. I think he respected that would’ve caused major problems.

Last night talking about Kelly and P, he broke down crying remembering how close he’d come to losing me forever when I walked out on him in ‘93. It reminded me how important he does view our relationship, even though he’s not always been quick to admit it.

I think we both agree that some of the drama we knew from our past just needs to stay there. We don’t want to deal with that stuff now.

However, we both agreed it makes us realize how happy we are with each other. It’s nice to catch up with people from our past, but as for the catch of our lives? We’ve got it. No regrets. No throw backs.

Well, Wayne did it up big this year. Normally we just trade cards on Valentine’s Day. But this year…he went all out!

In addition to cards (which I got Sunday morning), Valentine’s came early when he surprised me by stuffing an iPod Touch in my purse on Saturday morning! (And if you saw how little my purse is, you’d understand that “stuffed” is an understatement.)

And I say surprised because I had no clue he’d went shopping for a present. (I saw him come home with cards early in the week and accidentally found where he’d stashed them, but I didn’t see the iPod!)

I have a devil of a time buying for him come birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas. Last year for Valentine’s Day I gave him a personalized print I found in one of my catalogs.

I broke down and got it because I couldn’t drive still then. There was no way for me to get him cards. Plus, I was knee deep in chemo and still having freak outs worrying if it was working, would I recover, would I die…. I wanted something to show him how much I loved him and to express he’s my Valentine come not only February 14th but the whole year through. That print summed it up.

But this year I had nothing. I requested could we just do cards, would that be okay?

Well, it seems this year Wayne was the one affected by all we’d gone through with the hitchhiker. He knew how much I’d been wanting an iPhone or iPod Touch. (I knew I couldn’t really justify the monthy iPhone fees, but I’ve been so intrigued by all the apps and stuff.)

He said Life’s too short to deny ourselves simple pleasures. Might as well splurge a little and celebrate being able to still share our lives together.

But what was even funnier…I was a big ol’ grump to him Friday night and starting Saturday morning. I grumbled at him for leaving me on the couch when I fell asleep there Friday night –and sticking me with Murph duties.

He kind of kept chuckling. I wanted him to say sorry so it made me more mad. But instead all he said was, “You’re going to feel so sorry…”

I thought he was bluffing. No way had he gone to the trouble of getting me a present. (He had asked what I might want. I showed him a ring in this one catalog. But I knew he hadn’t ordered it.)

I never in a million years would’ve thought he’d get me an iPod Touch. I was so stoked…and he was right.

I did feel bad after. But also so excited. Wayne once again keeps me on my toes and pulls out a romantic gesture just when I think he won’t.

That husband of mine…full of surprises and spoils me rotten. It’s why I love him so!

(And the spoiling didn’t stop there. It was an almost “no dishes weekend” too. Saturday he took me out to lunch and then to Greek for dinner. I made him breakfast Sunday morning, but then he made reservations for us Sunday night at our favorite restaurant and got us my favorite appetizers: a dozen oysters on the half shell! Full tummies, a new toy, great cards, tons of hugs and kisses and rejoicing at being alive and still together…it was a Valentine’s Day for the record books!)

My husband complained to me the other day, “I’m a blogging widow.”

He’s not far off. Every free second I get anymore I’ve got my laptop fired up and I’m in front of it. When he asks what I’m doing I chortle, “Blogging.”

“How can you be blogging? You always say that, but with all the banging you’ve been doing on those keys I’d have expected 50 posts by now.”

At this point I always sigh with exasperation.

“I’m doing blogging stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” he asks haughtily. (Because he caught on to my insinuating tone that it’s far too advanced for him and his fancy CPA mind to comprehend so I have to put it as simply as possible. Doesn’t get much simpler than “stuff.”)

So I sigh again. (After all, he’s taking away from my blogging time!)

“Blogging is more than just writing posts. I’ve got to visit all the blogs I follow and leave comments. I’ve got to scan my Google alerts and Tweet the links. Oh, and speaking of Twitter, I have to scan all my lists there and see what’s going on and RT or ‘at’ followers in my responses to their Tweets. That can take up a lot of time. Then I have to stop by the Haunt Jaunts Facebook fan page and…”

“Stop right there. I’ve heard enough. That doesn’t sound like ‘blogging’ to me. That sounds like you’re goofing off.”

I release a full on “I’m very annoyed with you now” huff.

“See? That’s why I just say ’stuff.’ You don’t understand that blogging is more than just writing a post. There’s a lot of behind the scenes work.”

“Goofing off.”

This is usually when I’ve had enough. I turn back to my computer and go back to my blogging, wishing he had something to blog about. Then he’d understand.